Chapter Eight
In the flurry of those last few stormy hours before Christmas Eve, Nick never got a chance to speak with Emme in private. He didn’t count the few words they’d said to each other on the float, because they were in front of the entire town.
He found himself run ragged doing errands for Chi Chi at the vineyard, helping switch everything from an outdoor to an indoor Christmas Eve celebration. And every time he finished something, another one of his cousins or their gorgeous can’t-say-no-to wives came around to give him another task.
“Adding to your to-do list, Intern St. Nick,” would say one DeLuca cousin or another.
The only one who left him alone was Nate, who said he and Frankie had to make a run into the City for a holiday errand of their own.
“We’ll make it for dinner,” he told Nick. “Tell Chi Chi not to worry.”
Nick was jittery. He had so much he wanted to say to Emme but no way to catch her in private to tell her and so he hid behind texting.
He texted later that night after a busy Saturday filled with the Parade, the Cut and Run and the successful St. Paw’s Adoption Fair to teasingly congratulate her on wielding an axe to place third in St. Helena’s annual Christmas tree chopping event.
She answered “veterinarians are good with sharp objects,” so he got bold and asked her to come with him to Christmas Eve dinner at the DeLuca’s.
Then he kicked himself for being a chicken and texting her instead of calling.
“Magnum, buddy, I can’t decide. You gotta help me do this right,” he said, squatting down to rub behind Magnum’s ears, then giving the delighted little dog a full belly rub when he flipped over, joyously wagging his tail.
“It’s easy for you, Fluff Ball,” Nick told the little dog. “I pat you on the head, and feed you, and you know you’re loved.”
The little Westie looked up at him in a moment of doggie admonishment, as if to say, “Hang on, man. I just lost my first human. You’re nice and everything, but I’m still getting used to you.” Then Magnum head-butted Nick in the shin, admonishment time clearly over and done. Nick scooped the little dog up close and flipped him over for another set of belly rubs, causing ecstatic wagging and yipping.
That’s when he started to really think things through, that maybe everything really was easier than he was making it. At the same time, he needed to make sure he knew exactly how to say things right so he wouldn’t screw up again. Emme was too important.
Nick paused when he heard the jingle and saw her name on the call on the cell phone screen the next day, Christmas Eve. Man, he was screwed up.
But then he took a deep breath, and another look at the little dog, who wagged as if to say “DO something. ANYTHING!”
“Nah. Gonna play hard to get, buddy.”
He checked her message saying that she was in, and kept texting her instead.
BUSY. HELPING GET THE VINEYARD READY FOR CHRISTMAS.
He’d dodge her until he was good and ready to say what he needed to say. Until he was coherent, that is.
LOOKING FORWARD TO DINNER. WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?
Nick smiled.
WEAR SOMETHING SEXY he started to text back, then deleted those words and tried again.
WEAR A PARTY DRESS.
THIS ISN’T HALLOWEEN, BACCHUS. WILL YOU BE IN YOUR TOGA?
He smiled and texted back:
YOU’LL HAVE TO COME AND SEE.
Nick laughed and put the phone away, snapping Magnum’s leash to his collar. Magnum turned into a whirling dervish, yipping and wagging.
“Come on buddy. We’d better get your walk in before anybody else needs anything from us. And before it rains again.”
Then there was the melee of family arriving at the vineyard, cousins and aunts and uncles all greeting and hugging, gathered to celebrate the Feast of the Seven Fishes, the traditional Italian Christmas Eve meal.
He and Emme were seated together for the dinner, and he was so anxious he didn’t know if he was going to be able to do it.
Nick was nervous, and felt a pang of sadness that his mom was out in New York, having decided not to come visit for the holidays.
“I think Etta would have loved this,” said Emme, always-sensitive to what he was thinking, because that’s what real friends do. “You’ll call her after dinner, maybe not too late since it’s Eastern?”
Nick nodded.
Emme was so beautiful to him in that moment, dressed in another borrowed dress, this time a red one that was vintage, beaded and sparkley enough that he figured it had to come from Chi Chi’s famed fashion archive. She’d traded the boots in for a pair of strappy black heels, completely illogical to wear anywhere near a vineyard. Her steel-toed boots that she wore around campus and for her veterinary work would have been more practical.
His heart stopped, she was that beautiful.
He looked around the crowded room at his cousins and their spouses, all the shining faces and hand-holding and surreptitious holiday kisses going on among husbands and wives celebrating together. The littlest DeLucas were all seated at a children’s table with the gingerbread house in the center that Nick had helped his cousin-in-law Lexi haul over from the Sweet & Savory Bistro.
The brightest smiles of all were from Chi Chi and her second husband, Charles Baudouin, who was really an early love she got together with late in life. Chi Chi and Charles led a round of toasts, and things got wilder and louder as all of the DeLuca brothers toasted family, and their wives, and everything DeLuca. Nick knew Chi Chi and Charles would be over at Charles’ vineyard doing the celebration a second time the next day, for the Baudouin family Christmas dinner.
The doorbell rang as Gabe was finishing up toasting Regan and their children.
Nate opened the door and first escorted Frankie, who was incredibly pregnant, to the table.
Then the slender form of Nick’s Mom, Etta, appeared in the door, carefully balancing a box which he knew contained her famous twenty-one layer German Christmas cake, the marzipan-filled baumkuchen. The toasts paused for a minute, as hugs and greetings were exchanged, and the latecomers seated around the table.
Nick was shocked at the holiday surprise, until he turned and saw Emme’s grin.
“You knew?”
“I can keep a secret, Bacchus. Besides, we weren’t exactly talking.”
He kissed her then, deeply and soundly.
“Everyone, I’d like to make one last toast,” called out Nick.
“To family – those close, those far, and those who get very, very involved in things,” he said, aiming an incandescent smile over at Great Aunt Chi Chi, who blushed as her husband, Charles, kissed her on the cheek.
“And to true friendship, and true love, both of which I’m lucky to have found with this woman.”
Nick and Emme kissed, and knew in their hearts that it was only the first Christmas Eve of many yet to come.